


sympathy for the devil

by displayheartcode



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/pseuds/displayheartcode
Summary: “Fairest and fallen,” greeted Crowley. The exit interview does not go as expected.





	sympathy for the devil

**Author's Note:**

> Why not? This is unedited. References to the events in So You Want to Be a Wizard and High Wizardry.

The figure was tall and human-shaped, arguably handsome by modern means that bored Crowley to no ends. _Where is his aesthetic?_ he wondered about his former boss and thought fondly of the snake tattoos and mustaches and glasses he had worn throughout the millennium. After all, he was dressed impeccably in a black smoking jacket with snake-styled buttons and snake-skin boots such a dark red they were almost blooded. With his glasses perched low on his nose, the ordinary humans around him could feel enough of his presence to give him space.

But the Devil waited patiently in the queue for the new high-end sushi place to open. (Another consequence of the agreement he had with the angel.) He checked His phone, a tricky invention made out of star-forged metal and maybe the tears of forgotten children, looked up and saw Crowley’s annoyed expression. They both knew why, and it was in the subtle ways this world had forced upon them. Humanity, as Crowley was still learning, left its mark on both Heaven and Hell. It had left the Devil shaken to His fundamental core—His very essence—and had allowed a demon to saunter so low he now reeked of morality.

“Fairest and fallen,” greeted Crowley. He side-stepped a part of the line that became dismayed when their phones suddenly stopped working and used the confusion to move ahead. “Shouldn’t you be channel-surfing down below?” 

As long as Crowley had known, there were versions of his boss scattered throughout space and time, all in different forms and took on various attributes.

But none of them had bothered to answer his calls.

The Devil sighed. He shut His phone off and slid it inside His boring black jacket pocket. It buzzed loudly. “We’ll have your exit interview at some other time,” He said in a flat accent that was awfully American.

Crowley stood his ground. “Some might call this meeting serendipitous.”

“That would be the other department,” the Devil said. He pulled His phone out again and answered a text. The air smelled faintly of brimstone. “This is my day _off_ , Crowley.”

It was then Crowley noticed another change. It was something about the lines on His face, the way He held His jaw in annoyance at His former underling bothering Him, the slight sag in His shoulders even presented in His fitted suit.

The Devil was tired.

Crowley leaned against the brick wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The queue had yet to make any progress. “How art thou fallen and crash-landed on this mortal realm?”

“As if you should talk.” The Devil’s posture remained unchanged as did His tone. He tapped out another text message. “I’ve seen the way you fraternize with the Enemy, your oh-so-cunning ruse with the faces and fires and water— _yes, I saw that_ —and how you openly defied me in the presence of The Great Plan.” He paused and looked up; His expression strangely wounded; tone accusatory as if also addressing Himself, recognizing the shared Reconfiguration. “You’ve changed.”

A beat of unnatural silence passed between them.

“Was it my progeny?” the Devil asked a moment later. “Children have the habit of changing things. One of them read my name, and another reminded me of home.”

“Hardly.” Crowley saw over a millennium of humanity in a blink of an eye. Aziraphale’s face splitting into a smile in the wreckage of a church. Eve savoring the bite of the apple. Adam’s friends moving up against the Horsemen. Colors splitting the sky after a flood. Humanity marched on, and so had he.

The Devil closed His eyes. “Then consider this interview over.”

Crowley pushed himself off the brick wall. There was still the matter of the first question he had yet to ask. “But am I getting that retirement package?”

The Devil went back to His phone. “Go ask HR.”


End file.
